


bright-eyed boy

by Ffwydriad



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, arguably unreliable narrator, coda to c2e89, complicated at the very least, ymmv but fucked up relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ffwydriad/pseuds/Ffwydriad
Summary: Astrid has been preparing herself for this moment for a very long time.Coda to c2e89
Relationships: Astrid & Caleb Widogast, Past Astrid/Caleb Widogast - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 111





	bright-eyed boy

She’s been preparing herself for this. 

She has been preparing for a long time. She was preparing herself, while he was still in Vergessen, for the day to come when he was returned to them. She was preparing herself, following his escape, to find him again, as a madman or a killer or a rebel or a traitor or an ally or a friend. She was preparing herself for him to arrive on her doorstep, seeking blood or seeking to return to the fold or seeking her. 

And when Ikithon had sent word, of who he had found, standing before the King, of who had come to inspect the project and let slip that he had spent their time apart learning, she prepared herself. 

She prepared herself, to be called in as some bargaining chip, for if Bren had become such an important figure - such a dangerous, unaligned figure - she knew that it was likely, that she would be asked to act. And it was best to prepare for that future, to have a calm and steady reaction in response to what she knew must be done. 

But he came to her. Came to her door. And she didn’t need to steady herself, to see him again. 

He was - his hair was longer, his clothing of a style she knew must be Xhorhassian. He was growing in some stubble, looked rough around the edges, and she could see flecks of blood that hadn’t quite been cleaned away. He didn’t look the way he had, when they were young, and she had known that would be the case, and it saddened her some small amount anyways. He didn’t look the way he had, during his stay at Vergessen, and that sent a relief deep through her heart. 

His eyes were bright, and blue, and they wavered a bit (with dread, he tells her, and she does not like the thought of him dreading her, for all that it might be the appropriate response) but they were clear, with no trace of the fog which had hidden him away for so many years. 

No trace of the fire, either, the burning ember, and that she is grateful, for. Only once, did the two of them ever fight - if that encounter could have even been called a fight - and it was more than she had ever wanted. She doesn’t want to hurt him. 

His voice is that of a man she does not know, Bren’s familiar lilt but aged to unrecognition. His face is more similar, although with such full color, and the long hair, she almost - no, she would have recognized him no matter what. Or maybe that is just what she hopes to be true. 

His words, however, are those of a child. Not even a child as they had been, for they hadn’t been this foolish for a long time, but a child as those that she safeguarded. Innocent of the world.

He’s so innocent. Naive, perhaps, as to what she knows, as to what she has become. So righteous in his fury, without the careful understanding of cause and effect that she was used to, from him. 

He thinks she doesn’t know. He thinks that she’s a pawn.

She is a pawn, admittedly. Just a pawn that knows her place, and knows that she’s standing on the other end of the board, poised to take command as soon as the right pieces fall. 

She wants to hold him, to draw him close and protect him from the world, to let him retain whatever innocence he managed to maintain. She presses a hand against his leg, in compromise, an assurance that he is solid, he is present, he is here.

He presses his hand to her cheek, runs his finger down the scar, and she can't help but think he's seeking that same assurance. Bren would not stay kept, would not stay safe, not and still remain who he is now, bright eyed. And she won’t keep him, no matter how much it pains him to let him off into such a dangerous world.

So he leaves her cottage, and she lets him, watches as he goes. 

She prepares herself, for when she will see him again. And she will see him again, of that she is quite sure. 

She calms herself, rehearses her reactions, and prepares herself, for a knock, or an order, or a burst of warm and familiar flame.

**Author's Note:**

> fucking hell idk what to feel about astrid but i know i feel A Lot. 
> 
> i'm @malaismere on tumblr, and if you like i will rant to you about what i think Astrid (and the rest of the cerberus assembly) is up to because my dudes, i have Theories.


End file.
